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Wednesday, Nov 25, 2009
The hole sits next to the local Kiwanis Club, which recently hosted a chili cook-off to raise money for needy children, and the First Christian Church, which runs a preschool. Nearby is the traditional center of Wilton Station, an intersection known as Five Points, where in the '50s, two castle-like towers stood. In one, a woman operated a bird store; her parakeets and canaries flew about constrained inside the stone walls. A never-sold mynah bird was famous for its biting remarks.
Back then Wilton Manors was a typical town, full of modest bungalows and banal intrigues. By the '80s, however, Wilton Manors had rotted into a mildly crime-ridden place, and gay escapees from Fort Lauderdale moved in to snap up cheap houses and gentrify the hell out of them. That initial trickle became an influx, and today an estimated 35 to 40 percent of the residents are gay or lesbian. It is the only American city, other than West Hollywood, Calif., where a majority of City Council members are openly gay.
Statistics reinforce the picture: In the 2000 census, the city of Wilton Manors had the highest percentage of households reporting as "unmarried partners" in the entire U.S. Only 37 percent of households are "married," well below the national average of 59 percent. The number of households that include children is 20 percent below the national average.
According to locals, Wilton Manors is a place where gays and straights coexist peacefully in a sort of mini-Epcot of sexuality. "People have just realized that sexual preference isn't that important," says Rex Gillenwater, 48, the (straight) president of the Kiwanis Club, which counts the former mayor among "quite a few" gay members. "What matters is the kind of person someone is. Anyone who had a problem with it has moved away."
Don Ice, an openly gay man who owns a pet-sitting business, finds the town hostility-free: "You have your little gay realtors, your little gay shops, your fancy hamburger place." His only real complaint: He has to drive across the waterway to Fort Lauderdale to find a decent leather bar.
"It's a great little place," says Donna DeGroot, a retired Catholic schoolteacher, who has lived in Wilton Manors since 1989 with her husband, John, a Pulitzer Prize-winning former journalist. "And the gay population has made it an even nicer place to live." The DeGroots' home has tripled in value thanks to gay renewal, but their ties to the town are more than financial; they have a gay neighbor they love as a brother.
"Intolerance," says John, "is not tolerated here."
Or at least it's a very minor factor, says Andy Weiser, a local gay realtor. "There is a redneck population in Wilton Manors," he admits. "But this is still, by far, the most liberal part of South Florida." The town even has its own police force, reputedly more gay-friendly than the local Broward County Sheriff's Office.
Given the town's placid gayness, and its explosive real-estate market, it's not surprising that Jim Ellis and partners decided to build Wilton Station and market it so ambitiously. The first wave of national ads, eliciting requests for more information, debuted earlier this year in both gay magazines (the Advocate, Out) and mainstream titles (the New York Times Magazine). Buoyant same-sex couples -- as well as hetero duos, and a woman clearly doomed to live alone with her dog -- populated the campaign. Words like "open-minded" suggested gay-friendliness; the ads in the Advocate and Out went further, highlighting reception areas perfect for "commitment ceremonies."
Though Ellis stresses that they are targeting both gays and straights and have a strict nondiscrimination policy, he expects the majority of buyers will be gay. "I could see it going as high as 60 percent," he says.
Accordingly, the developers decided to find out "what amenities would be of particular interest to the gay and lesbian community," as John Patrick, the chief marketer, told the South Florida Sun-Sentinel this March. They set up focus groups, inviting up to 20 young professionals, both gay and straight, to weigh in on everything from lifestyle priorities to the nuances of moldings.
What did they learn? "These people care greatly about their bodies," says the project's architect Vernon Pierce, a straight man who grew up with a gay sister. "The health club was viewed as extremely important, so we designed a facility that will be second to none."
"Another key area of concern was entertaining," says Pierce. "So we upgraded the kitchens' size, and made sure they're open to the rest of the unit." The gay contingent, he says, responded to the prospect of cooking while hobnobbing with guests. Pierce also expanded the terraces in many units to a whopping 7 feet by 19 feet.
"Because the gay community is gregarious," says Pierce, "we thought: Why not create a bunch of public spaces? We changed the design of certain units to incorporate a 9-foot-square front porch." Their research indicated that gays would actually furnish and use these porches.
All in all, the gay customer remained mostly true to stereotype. "They do demand a higher level of design," Pierce says. "So we put in a lot more detail. Nicer columns, nicer paving patterns." The result, judging from renderings, is a handsome development, not overly original, but "upscale" in that sun-drenched Florida way.
